


Loud

by LoversAntiquities



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comeplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Rutting, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-07 00:37:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4242852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't do it like this very often. Normally, it’s Dean with his ass in the air and chest pressed to the bed, but today, he plans to change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loud

They don't do it like this very often.

Normally, it’s Dean with his ass in the air and chest pressed to the bed, Castiel taking his time with fingering him open or spending minutes just licking him, eating him out like he’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. Since falling, he’s taken reverence with Dean’s body, breaking him down and molding him into whatever he wants, stripping away that carefully guarded power stored in his bones and giving him exactly what he wants, whenever and wherever. They’ve christened almost every room in the bunker, and there’s cum in more places than they can count. They still won’t explain to Sam how one of the kitchen chairs inexplicably _shattered_.

‘ _It’s a fifty year old chair, Sammy. Shit happens._ ’

Now, Dean kneels at Castiel’s back with his hands firmly planted on the two reddened globes of his ass, just kneading him, occasionally kissing wet at the base of his spine, all to get a rise out of him. Castiel doesn’t talk much when Dean has him like this, ass presented to him and his hands gripping the headboard, mouthing unheard syllables into the pillow beneath his head. The most Dean can get out of him is a startled yelp or a stammered ‘please,’ never quite loud enough to be satisfying.

He plans to change that today.

He’s been at it for ten minutes when he gets his first noise, Castiel clutching the pillow tight while Dean licks over that tight bud of muscle between his cheeks, flicking his tongue in rapid bursts before slipping down to lap at his balls, all the way up to his rim again, slapping his ass one-handed. Castiel mutters something unintelligible, eyes closed, brow furrowed until he relaxes, hole fluttering under Dean’s kisses. “You like that, don’t you?” Dean taunts, giving him another lick before he pulls up, nipping at the reddened handprint on Castiel’s ass, catching the look of pure desperation in Castiel’s eyes. “Like my tongue in your ass?”

Castiel nods, like he always does—that won’t do. “Mr. High and Mighty can’t even tell me what he wants, can he?” Dean smirks and presses another kiss to his rim, letting his tongue lick fat trails along his crack while his hands part Castiel open, Castiel whimpering every time his grip tightens, fingers digging into soft flesh.

Castiel has a _great_ ass, Dean’s discovered; he doesn't often get to take Castiel apart like this, but when he does, he does his best to feel every inch of him, warm and pliable in his grasp. He’s had practice, years of shacking up with guys—and some adventurous ladies—in motel rooms and giving them the best he’s got. He knows how to work his tongue, knows how to hold his partner and just where to put his hands, bringing them to and from the brink until they’re writhing and delirious, begging him to get on with it, to fuck them like he means it.

Though, Castiel never leaves him any hints—Dean guesses what he needs by how his body moves, how hard he pushes his hips back, how fast he breathes. At the moment, he’s calm and occasionally panting, fingers grasping the pillow tighter every time Dean spanks him or slips his tongue in deeper. One of the things Dean still can’t wrap his head around is Castiel’s stamina. Probably something left over from his Angel days, or some sort of insane patience—either way, Dean can rim him for hours and Castiel still won’t come, even after Dean pulls out his best moves. They’re always spent by the time its over, when Castiel finally comes all over himself and Dean’s not far behind, lips red and swollen from too much sensation and Castiel still begging for more.

He’s become convinced Castiel just likes the feel of his mouth; maybe he meditates to hold off, or dazes. It would be a wound to his ego if Dean didn’t enjoy it so much. There’s intimacy behind it, knowing he—and _only_ he—gets this, gets to see Castiel at his most vulnerable. The rebel of the Angels now reduced to humanity, seeking out comfort in pleasures of the flesh. He fucks Dean with intent and passion—Dean fucks him like he means it, and neither can find it in them to regret it in the aftermath.

Now, Dean’s determined to make him _beg_. He even has the space to do it in, Sam off interviewing residents in the town over about the strange lights they saw in the sky, leaving the two of them alone in a swanky room in the middle of Redding and Dean with a handful of fallen Angel. “C’mon, babe,” Dean croons, spanking his other cheek and letting his fingers dance across the hot mark, tapping two against his spit-soaked rim and slapping there, Castiel jerking away; Dean’s fingers follow him, petting softly before coming down again, Castiel panting out another noise, this time sounding more like a whimper. “Gonna get you louder than that.”

Castiel buries his face further in the pillow when Dean moves away, reaching up the bed to take the remote he left in hand, mouthing at the small wire-attached bullet and licking it, wetting it enough to play with. He runs it over Castiel’s rim, hole fluttering over the toy, eager to have it inside. There’s a collection of toys back in their room that they play around with, Castiel always a fan of the bigger ones, the dildos that leave him stretched and full, the vibrators that let him come untouched.

But during hunts, Dean always takes the bullet—it’s light and compact, and he can hide it without snooping brothers finding out what he and Castiel are up to. Not like he doesn't already _know_ , but still. “You want it?” Dean smirks, rubbing harder; Castiel whines, sounding vaguely like a ‘yes.’ “Gonna have to tell me, babe.”

“ _Dean_.” Castiel opens his eyes and _glares_ at him, and Dean practically _glows_ at the reaction. He leans down to spit along Castiel’s crack and starts the bullet on the lowest setting, sliding it through the wetness while Castiel freezes, his toes curling, breath coming in clipped pants. “ _Dean_ …”

“Know you can get louder than that, sweetheart.” Castiel shudders when Dean runs a hand over his ass again, pressing the vibrator against his hole one more time before he zeroes in, lapping at the muscle and feeling it give under his ministrations. Meanwhile, he lets the bullet roam elsewhere, one hand gripping his thigh tight while Dean tonguefucks him, the other trailing the toy over his ass, down the back of his leg, against his balls—Castiel actually _whines_ at that one—even along his cock, hard and leaking copiously into the sheets.

As much as he knows Castiel won’t admit it, he’s a wreck. Totally enraptured, mouth caught in a widening ‘o’ every time Dean strips his cock, teasing the slit with the tip of the bullet until he pulls back, caught between riding Dean’s face and fucking into his fist.

 _Perfect_.

“ _Please_ ,” he hears Castiel whimper, back a beautiful arch in his grasp; Dean runs a hand up his spine and drags his nails back down, Castiel’s moan muffled into the pillow. He wants to rip it away from him, leave him with nothing to grab hold of while Dean finishes him off, tears down all of Castiel’s defenses and lets him groan his way to orgasm. “Please, _Please_ , Dean—.”

“You’re so close,” Dean says back, pulling away long enough to spit again, licking the new slick and diving back in, moaning between nips. He’s hard in his jeans, long since unbuttoned, his cock a hard line, standing proud out of his zipper and leaking; he takes the time to kneel upright and press the head to Castiel’s rim, feeling it flex every time he slaps it, the bullet still buzzing in his other hand. “Want this, huh? Want me to fuck you? _God_ , you should see yourself—.”

“Fuck me,” Castiel pants, blue eyes hazy, panting hot breaths into the air; Dean almost comes from the word alone. “You’ve played around long enough, _Dean_.”

He smirks at the sound of his name, stroking himself a few times and rubbing his fat cock between Castiel’s cheeks, leaning up to cover him, hands on either side of his head as he ruts in the crease, kissing his nape. Castiel leans up to kiss him, their lips barely brushing with the angle; still, Dean feels the heat there, the intent in those cobalt eyes, black eclipsing blue. “Gettin’ you back for last week.”

Last week was a _good_ week, too. “You’ve made your point,” Castiel says, voice trembling each time he matches Dean’s hips, Dean’s cock slipping in the wet groove. “I— _Fuck_ , I want—.”

“Know what you want, babe,” Dean mouths wet against his skin, snapping his hips in a few sharp thrusts; Castiel moans when Dean pulls up and reaches around his stomach, stroking Castiel’s cock with the bullet in hand, upping the setting to the third out of five. Castiel howls with it and bucks into his fist, Dean holding his hip with his free hand and rubbing himself between his cheeks, cock drooling fat trails onto damp skin. He could come like this; his balls are already drawing up, the first hints of orgasm tight in his belly. Still, he struggles to hold on, bathing in each of Castiel’s moans, the way he whimpers when he plays with his head, when he presses the base of his cock to hold him off, just a little bit longer.

Castiel comes like that, finally, Dean’s hand stroking his cockhead in quick succession while Castiel shakes through it, biting the pillow to stifle his groans. His hand is slick and soaked when Castiel quiets, and Dean uses it to stroke himself, head pressed to the fallen Angel’s rim when his cock spurts white, dripping down and across his ass, hole fluttering when his release trickles over it. Dean gathers it up and sucks a kiss to his rim one more time, letting cum linger on his tongue; Castiel rolls over on instinct and draws him into a kiss, sharing the taste between them.

“You’re a tease,” Castiel says once they separate, Dean shutting off the bullet and setting it to the side. The sheets beneath him are stained with precum and sweat, and Dean can’t be bothered to care.

Dean laughs, genuine. “It’s either that or keep at it for an hour. Seriously, ‘m startin’ to think you don’t even feel it.”

“I feel it,” Castiel whispers, voice dropping an octave, and Dean’s dick gives a feeble twitch between his legs. “I feel every _second_ of it, Dean. I could have your mouth on me for _hours_.”

“Good,” Dean smirks, kissing his jaw and running his dirtied hands up Castiel’s thighs, thumbs pressing into the sharp jut of his hips. He could do this all day. “’Cause I don’t think I want it anywhere else.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something involving bottom Cas, so here you go! I really need to be writing other things, look what y'all are making me do.
> 
> My DSB posts tomorrow, so be prepared~!
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/loversantiquity).


End file.
